Hurricane
by amsterdamage
Summary: It was okay at first. Like, how you stick your hand underneath the hot water tap, and it takes a little while for the burn to reach your nerves. After that, I just felt empty. SetoxOC
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys.

This is something else I've been working on, it means a lot to me because... it just does. You'll find out later. The emotion I felt whilst constructing this is very raw and real and I just wish I had someone to take care of me, because I had to win this war by myself, and it's still not over.

Anyway, enough of my sob story.

It's kind of different for me, these chapters are all very short and a lot of them I don't like but hopefully you guys will. As usual, please leave me a little review or something, so I'll know whether to continue it or not.

Many thanks

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><p>ONE<p>

_It was okay at first._

_ Like, how you stick your hand underneath the hot water tap, and it takes a little while for the burn to reach your nerves._

_ After that, I just felt empty._

I hang my head back and blow out all the hot smoke from my lungs, my half-finished cigarette dangling from my fingers. I am sprawled across his expensive leather chair, my legs hanging off one armrest and my upper body spread right across the other. It is stuffy in his extravagantly decorated office; the air is thick with my smoke.

"What are you doing?"

I lazily turn my head to the door. "Smoking," I answer flatly, placing the cigarette between my lips again and sucking in another lungful. "You're the genius kid, aren't you? What's it look like I'm doing?"

Seto's lips press into a firm line and he places his briefcase on the table, pulling an expensive laptop out of it. "Get up," he says, looking down at me with his frosty blue eyes. He tilts his head to the side, gesturing for me to get out of his Italian chair but I am lacking the energy today.

"Make me," is my lethargic response, releasing another exhalation of smoke.

And when he lifts me swiftly over his shoulder, I let him. He drops me down onto the couch and takes one look at me, my eyes half-lidded and my crumpled clothes. A dark frown crosses his lips but he just leaves me there, slumped over the sleek, black Italian leather of his sofa. I sigh heavily, more hot smoke escaping from between my chapped lips. When my cigarette is finished, I flick it onto the floor.

His eyes rise from his computer screen but he doesn't say anything.

I close my eyes and he lets me fall asleep on his couch; rest my tired skeleton until it is time for him to take me home.


	2. Chapter 2

Another installment.

I'm not sure how I feel about this, why don't you tell me how you do?

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><p>TWO<p>

_I miss his eyes. _

_ They were the warmest brown colour with a tiny hint of green-blue around the pupil. The way they lit up so bright when he saw me, I can never forget._

My phone is ringing somewhere in my apartment. It is nearly midday but I have not yet moved from my bed. As usual, my room is choked with thick cigarette smoke and the stench of alcohol, a constant reminder of my misery. Closing my eyes, I roll over onto my stomach and pull the covers over my head, hoping that the ringing will stop soon.

"Hi!" I hear my old friend's voice chirp to the answering machine that takes over a moment later. "Sierra, I haven't heard from you in a little while. I was hoping maybe we could catch up for coffee sometime when you aren't busy?"

_I was hoping you would leave me alone._

"Anyway, give me a call or something and we'll arrange a time to chat. Bye!"

My friend is a psychiatrist.

I press my hand firmly against my chest, hoping to feel something underneath my palm but when nothing comes, I turn onto my side and hug my thin knees tightly to my chest, my fingers sinking into the skin where my heart should be.

It isn't long before my apartment door opens and soft footsteps approach my bed. I close my eyes and remain there, curled up underneath my blankets. There is a quiet rustle as a plastic bag is placed on my night table, a sigh to let me know how he feels about my lifestyle these days.

"I bought you your favourite," is all Seto says before leaving me to drown again.


	3. Chapter 3

Feedback?

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><p>THREE<p>

_I hate fifty-fifty chances._

_ It's hard to keep your head above water when there is an equally strong weight clawing at your ankles. You don't know whether to keep going or just let the darkness surround you._

My lighter isn't working.

The rain is coming down like God is angry at the world, angry at me, wanting to drown me for my failures. The sky is devoid of any colour; it is just various shades of black and grey with the occasional flash of electric blue.

I hold my hand above the lighter, but it still isn't catching; my cigarette is soaked and useless by now. I chuck it to the ground and hurl my lighter across the street in a fit of rage but with my weary bones, it doesn't get very far. It skids across the road and spins to a halt in the middle of the black tarmac.

My clothes are drenched right through and I am shivering so much but this does not seem too different from how I usually feel.

I wonder how he always knows where I am, how he always knows when to rescue me. I wonder if he is following me, but I cannot decide whether to be annoyed at his distrust or to be flattered that he is spending his precious time and effort keeping an eye on me.

"You're going to get sick," Seto tells me flatly, forcing a jacket around my skinny shoulders. He had thought ahead.

"I'm okay," I say, my voice barely heard above the pounding rain.

"Let's go," he orders, putting an arm around me and pulling me in the direction of my home, my lonely apartment.

"I'm okay," I try again, letting my feet drag as he guides me down the dark street.

"No you're not." He shoots my attempt down immediately, his legs moving much faster than mine can manage.

I try to move away and shake off his charity, because I don't want it, I don't need it, but I can barely keep up with him, let alone refuse him. He just tightens his grasp on me and settles me under his arm, the only place I have felt warmth in a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

My favourite chapter for some reason. Tell me what you think.

Anyway, I'm leaving this for you guys cause I'm going on school camp today, hopefully I'll have something nice in my inbox when I get back, or is that just wishful thinking?

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><p>FOUR<p>

_I feel like I let you down._

_ I'm sorry._

"Tell me about him."

I look down at the grainy black leather of the armrest underneath my elbow, light reflecting off the smooth material that feels soft to my skin. Then my gaze flickers to the carpet beneath her heels, my eyes running over the plain white fabric. I glance to the four walls around us, blinding and white with only a clock and a few pieces of art interrupting all that forever-white. My eyes are beginning to hurt.

"Sierra?"

Then I look to her, the psychiatrist that Seto has paid for to help me. Her eyes are a deep brown, like what his were like, but these ones are tired, her eyes have seen too many things. I decide they aren't the same after all.

"Tell me about him," she repeats even though I heard her the first time.

I look back to the clock and work out that I still have forty-five minutes left of the session. Since I entered this room quarter of an hour ago, I have not uttered a single word.

She is analyzing me; I can see it in those beady dark eyes of hers.

The ringing in my ears starts up the moment she stops talking, like a screwdriver is being driven right into my skull. I look to the stitching that holds the shiny black leather together, the pattern of the hide resting underneath my forearm, and wonder briefly about my own stitching, fraying and pulling apart.

I get up and walk out of the room, with its white floor and its white walls.

He is sitting there in the waiting room outside, his leg crossed over the other and his arms folded in front of his chest. He looks up at me and stands up, and we go buy some ice cream. He likes mint but I prefer vanilla even though he thinks it is plain. I like plain things.

We sit in his expensive car, eating our different flavoured ice creams until the sun goes down.


	5. Chapter 5

Shit chapter.

Thanks Slashers R Us. You take my mind off my sunburnt feet and sore arse from camping.

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><p>FIVE<p>

_I wonder if you think about me as much as I think about you._

_ Do you miss those days we would run for ages with our hearts beating in time?_

_ I do._

_ I want you back._

_ So badly._

Seto used to get angry with me a lot when I wouldn't get out of bed for days.

"For God's sake, Sierra."

I would just roll over onto my side, my back facing him. I would close my eyes.

"This is pathetic."

I would imagine I was with him again, that I could bury my face into his neck, his hair and skin the sweetest smell.

"Get over yourself."

But he doesn't get angry anymore because he has seen the scars and the scabs, red against my skin. He dresses them himself on those days that I can't move, when my arms and legs won't listen to my brain. He takes away all of my blades but I have an illicit supply of tools to prolong this state of mine. He confiscates all my alcohol and pills, but I don't know why.


	6. Chapter 6

Here's another one because the last one is rubbish and I hate it.

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><p>SIX<p>

_How did this happen?_

There is a burning inside of my chest, a tightening where my heart should be. I blink and reach up to feel the thudding underneath my palm, but there is nothing. When I see photos of us together, it squeezes painfully.

My back is smeared with dark crimson bedsores and my arms, legs, hips, stomach are gruesomely cut. I am lying in my bed with my entire body in so much agony that I have to wonder how I am still alive. My heavy eyes struggle to remain open as the sunlight wavers across my ceiling and my walls, my head spins from the tingling in my bones and the clutching sensation deep in my chest, like my ribcage is shrinking, being strangled slowly and mercilessly.

When Seto is on his way home from the office, he comes by and finds me, dressed in only my underwear, sprawled across my bed with my skin covered in dried blood. Wordlessly, I let him pull me into his arms, take me to the bathroom where he strips me and washes my body clean. My head slumps limply against his shoulder as he sits me down on the floor of the shower, his jacket discarded and his black sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he tends to all of my wounds, his lips pressed into a firm line. He does not utter a word as the water sprays down on both of us, washing away the red that stains my skin.

But unfortunately, the water does not have the ability to wash away my sorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

I'm thinking of just uploading the whole bloody story, I've already finished it and it's sitting in my documents.

Tell me what you think of that?

Anyway, to explain this chapter a little bit, my horse's name is Hurricane Hercules and recently, he injured a tendon really badly and the vet gave him a fifty-fifty chance of getting better after upwards of a year's recovery time. I started this story shortly after I was told and I was a fucking wreck, so here's the result of my insanity. My horse hasn't died or anything but the emotion is still raw and it tears me up.

Leave me something in my inboxeroo, and it will no doubt make me smile a little bit.

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><p>SEVEN<p>

_I guess we were just never meant to be._

_ In the moment, I thought we were going well, I thought we were going to make it through._

_ God, I was so blind._

With the strength I have left in my tired skeleton, I pick up one of my kitchen stools and hurl it across the room. It collides with the wall with a loud crash, the metal legs leaving a dent and a spider-web fracture in the plaster. It lies on its side, teetering on the floor. I turn and pick up another, throwing that one across the open plan kitchen. It slams against the dishwasher, a large imprint in its wake. I heave the last one over my head and send it flying across the living room. This one takes the TV down as it goes, a few sparks flying up when the flat-screen falls to the floor.

For a moment, it is silent around me and I can think.

And then there is another smash. It sounds like glass this time, and I look up.

"No," I whisper under my breath, rushing across to the first stool I threw, and the shattered picture frame that had been unsettled with the impact.

The glass cuts my fingers and my palms but I brush it all aside, smearing crimson all over the photograph that had been locked inside the pretty frame. I look down at the image in my bleeding hands; one of his back legs cocked with his head twisted to look back at me, lying across right his back with my fingers interlocked on the crest of his black mane, a makeshift pillow for my head. His nose is outstretched to nudge at my elbow and his ears are forward, his eyes bright.

"I can always buy you another horse, Sierra," Seto had said. "A better one."

I had laughed bitterly at that and disagreed. "Of course you wouldn't understand. It doesn't work like that with horses," I told him, shaking my head sadly at the slight frown that crossed his lips. And then I turned on my heel and left his office, my heart slowly breaking with each step I take.


	8. Chapter 8

I'm getting a new pony tomorrow.

Here's the rest of the story.

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><p>EIGHT<p>

_You're all that I hoped to find in every single way._

_ Oh, just keep on searching for me and I'll keep on searching for you._

"He's worried about you, you know."

I look up at the big silver eyes and the raven hair, the face of the younger Kaiba. I turn back to my cigarette, dangling from my lips. "He can keep worrying all he likes, it's not going to get either of us anywhere," I mutter darkly, draping a thin arm over my eyes to block him out. "I don't need him to worry about me. There isn't anything to be worried about."

I can imagine the fourteen-year-old frowning. "Have you eaten anything?"

An exhalation of smoke. _No._

"When did you eat last?"

An idle shrug. _Two days ago._

"What was the last thing you ate?"

A grunt. _An apple._

Mokuba sighs and turns away, and I can't help but think that Seto would sit with me and make me swallow every last bite.


	9. Chapter 9

NINE

_I never thought I could feel like this. _

_ When you left, you took a part of me with you._

_ Wading through the days with concrete limbs and heavy eyes._

My eyes slowly open when I hear my apartment door close.

Soft footsteps that I look forward to hearing approach my bedroom, the doorknob turning. I glance to the digital clock sitting on my end table and see that it is already nearly twelve in the morning. I watch with tired eyes as he places a small box on the table.

"What is it?" I ask Seto carefully.

"A gift," is all he says.

I frown. "I don't like gifts."

"I know."

My tired heart leaps when he turns to leave. "Will you stay?" I ask quietly.

He strips off his silver coat and he kicks off his shoes, crawls under my blankets.

When I wake up the next morning, he is gone. There is only the box on the table, with a small scrap of paper pinned underneath it. With a thin arm, I reach across and open it, tears springing to my eyes instantly.

_With both of you in mind._

That is all the note says.


	10. Chapter 10

TEN

_You're taking over my pages and you're all I think about, why can't you leave me alone?_

_ GET OUT OF MY HEAD._

_ I want you out but I don't, I love you and you mean everything, but I don't know what I want. I'm running in circles; I can feel me, feel us falling but where are we going?_

"You're wearing it."

His blue eyes flicker down to my finger. The fine scripture shines under this kind of light, each curve and flick illuminated. My hand self-consciously curls into a weak fist, his name flashing underneath the light.

"Thank you," I manage to say.

Seto just nods.

I look at him before going to the middle of his extravagant room and lying down, my face to the lush carpet that feels soft to my skin.

"What are you doing?" he questions, but he is not angry or cross like he should be at what he thinks is childish and ridiculous behaviour. He is perplexed and intrigued, I feel like an animal in a zoo under his cerulean gaze.

I do not answer for a while and he knows to just wait until I am ready to speak. It is silent in the room; he has stopped typing on his computer.

For a moment, I just sink into the soft material, my eyes closed and my nose filled with the dust lingering in the strands of the carpet. I feel so tired and I want to sleep forever, the hourglass is running empty I know, I can feel it.

"Sometimes," I begin slowly, my voice muffled by the carpet, "I get so tired of life and just lay on the floor hoping that I don't have to get up."

And so he leaves me there, until I am finally ready and together, we go home. Life is nice like that sometimes.


	11. Chapter 11

ELEVEN

_I'm writing all the same things but I'm stuck on all these goddamned feelings and no matter what I put down on paper or how much I write, it's still caught up in my throat and nothing I do will unblock the words._

"Sierra."

I just continue screaming, my voice resonating off the walls in my bathroom. The mirror above the sink is now lying in shards on the tiles and my bare feet are bloody but I am numb, smearing dark crimson all over the floor.

"Sierra, open the door."

Seto is on the other side, gently knocking because he doesn't want to pressure me any more than I already am.

I cry, slamming an already-broken fist into the already-broken sink. My stomach is unsettled and I feel like vomiting but there is nothing to send up the column of my throat. I am spinning so fast inside my head and I can't see, my eyes are spotting and blinking and there are weird lights but I only recall there only ever being one in the bathroom.

"Sierra," he says again, tapping more forcefully this time.

I weep out his name, my chest heaving for oxygen it cannot obtain.

"Sierra."

_Hurricane._

I slip on blood. There is a loud crash and a blinding pain in the back of my skull. I cough and it sends painful shocks to my chest.

"Sierra!"

_Hurricane._

My eyes flutter and even when I am on the floor, the room is rocking, whirling in front of my eyes. It makes me feel like throwing up.

The door is rammed open.

"Sierra!"

_Hurricane._


	12. Chapter 12

TWELVE

_I just want this storm to blow over._

His name was Hurricane.

He was much like his namesake. Beautiful, unpredictable, powerful.

And as I lie half-conscious in this hospital bed with all sorts of machines beeping, wires all over the place and tubes and needles stuck into my skin, he is all I can think about. I close my eyes and he is there, his soft nose pushing at me playfully when he wants attention. His bright brown eyes and his warm neigh for me.

And then he is standing in the corner of his pen, his tail sweeping absentmindedly at flies that aren't even there anymore. His head is down and he is resting a hind leg, but as soon as I call his name, his head shoots up and his ears snap forward, a rumble coming from deep within his throat because he is happy to see me. He trots up to the gate but that brings a frown to my lips because he is strictly forbidden to do that.

I say my last goodbyes.

_You wait for me up there, okay? Don't go wandering off without me. Promise._

I want to be there. I want to be the last person he sees.

And when he is finally gone, I cry until Seto has to forcibly remove my arms from his soft, warm neck. But when I swing my arms around his tall, slender frame, it just doesn't feel right.


	13. Chapter 13

Bee-tee-dub, I don't really know much about broken heart syndrome but bear with me, I'm a lazy fifteen year old and the last thing I want to do is fry my brain out with Wikipedia's endless medical terms, but chances are, you don't know much either so we'll just leave it untouched.

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><p>THIRTEEN<p>

_I had so much faith in you, I had so much faith in us._

_ Where did the time go, where did our minds go?_

_ I don't know, I'll never know._

"Takutsubo cardiomyopathy."

It's a long word and my tired brain can't comprehend.

"Otherwise known as broken heart syndrome," the doctor tells me grimly.

I close my eyes. I don't want to hear anymore.

"That's enough," Seto cuts in.

"I—" The doctor begins but he is given the infamous Kaiba glower, and leaves the room promptly.

I open my eyes again.

"I'll take you to one of my doctors," he decides, standing at the foot of my bed. "It shouldn't be too difficult."

I sigh and sink into the crisp, white pillows arranged behind my shoulders, letting him continue to talk about his expensive specialists, because he is the one who needs to be reassured this time around.


	14. Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

_You keep me awake at night and it's driving me insane, oh God I don't know what I want, I want you to stay, but I want you to go, but I'm at a loss for words and rational thought. This is not like me at all but given the circumstances, I am allowed to be this way, no?_

_ I want to do so many things; I want to break a window, throw something against the wall so I will not be the only one who is breaking apart._

"How are you feeling today, Sierra?"

_It hurts to breathe._

I look away.

"Are you in any pain?"

_Everywhere._

I close my eyes.

"Have you been experiencing any shortness of breath?"

_My heart hurts so much._

I pretend to sleep.

There is a short pause where the doctor looks to Seto for assistance.

But there is nothing he can do either.


	15. Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

_Isn't it a shame we all become such broken things?_

I can hear them talking in hushed voices outside my ward. The door is open slightly.

"Patients usually show improvement within two weeks."

"Then how come hasn't there been any?" Seto is outraged.

"The medication usually works but if the patient does not wish to recover—"

"I refuse to believe that it's her fault. You are supposed to be the best in the world and I paid good money to see her recover."

"Mr. Kaiba, I'm afraid that it's not the clinic's fault. If the patient—"

My eyes are heavy and it is hard to keep them open; my chest is burning and I am struggling to remain conscious. It feels like I am being pulled down by the ankles. It is like I am drowning but I lack the strength to keep swimming against the current.

"Mr. Kaiba, with all due respect, the patient has a long history of self-harm so it's no fault of mine if the medication is not taking effect. To recover, the patient must be willing to recover also."

"Goddamn it, her name is _Sierra._ Sierra Evans."

"Pardon me. Broken heart syndrome is a weakening in cardiac tissue as a result of stress and emotional trauma. If Sierra does not let go of the stress, she will not make a recovery."

I close my eyes and decide that that may not be such a bad thing after all.


	16. Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

_Is this what you felt like?_

_ Wasting your last few days, knowing that the inevitable would be knocking on your door?_

_ I love you, Hurricane. I haven't forgotten._

Lately, Seto has been working on his laptop in my hospital room.

"I'm sorry."

He looks up at me, rage flickering in his dark cerulean eyes. "You shouldn't be the one apologizing. It should be those goddamned doctors—"

I sigh and close my eyes, my breath coming short. It hurts my chest and I feel so heavy, I don't know how much longer I will be able to hold on, floating on the brink like this. The past few days have been a haze, I have been drifting in and out of sleep mostly, dreaming of him, and that is when I am most happy.

I look to him, sitting in his chair with his laptop sitting on his knees. I don't know why he is still here, just watching me as I wither away.


	17. Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

_I hope you kept your promise. I hope you haven't wandered off without me._

_ Because I'm coming, Hurricane. I'm on my way._

Blink, blink.

My eyelids are heavy, everything is blurring right in front of me, and it hurts my head to think, and of course I'm thinking because it's the one and only thing I've got strength to do nowadays, strapped to this hospital bed on suicide watch even though that wears me out sometimes too.

Seto is in his chair, slumped onto the side of my bed because he is sleeping.

It's cute sometimes, despite the situation, because when he is sleeping really deep, he'll hold onto my skeletal hand like it's his lifeline, but the more I think about it, the sadder it is because he won't have me to hold onto for much longer.


	18. Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

_You're just a daydream away, I wouldn't know what to say if I had you._

_ We never stood a chance out there._

"Seto."

He looks up immediately because most days I can't speak. He places his computer back into its suitcase and shuffles his chair closer. He is careful to not scrape the legs against the tiled floor because it hurts my ears when people do that.

My voice is barely there, just like me. I look to all the expensive machinery that is keeping me breathing, my eyes struggling to remain open. I look back to him and his weary eyes, his unruly brown hair and his creased clothing and I'm honestly touched that he has spent his precious time here with me, and then I feel guilty for what I am about to ask him next.

"Can you please switch off the life support?"

Seto looks like someone has just killed his puppy.

Second thought, that's inaccurate. He wouldn't care.

Seto looks like someone has just asked him to kill them.

"Why?" he asks quietly because he thinks the world is black and white, because he has spent his whole life getting back onto his feet and standing at the top, because he doesn't understand how someone can get so miserable, they want to die.

"Well, why are you keeping me here?" I have to ask, watching as his fingers reach out and curl around my own. He has never done this when he has been awake.

"Because I don't want you to die."

_Of course._

"But don't you understand, Seto?" I don't know where my voice suddenly finds its strength. "Because _you_ don't want me to die. _You_ want me to get better, but _I_ don't. _I_ don't know how to keep going. _I'm_ hurting, Seto, _I'm_ suffering."

He blinks because he hasn't thought of it like this before. "But I—"

I manage a weak smile. "It's okay." My chest is aching and I can't catch my breath because I haven't strung so many words together in a long time. "It's just the human condition."

And for the first time in our many years of friendship, Seto sheds a tear.


	19. Chapter 19

NINETEEN

_Time's up._

"It's bittersweet, isn't it?" I whisper softly, as he stares down at my open palm like he is trying to memorize the patterns of my scarred skin.

Seto doesn't say anything.

"I'll miss you," I say, my voice, my life escaping me.

He nods his head, getting out of his chair. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks me, his eyes pained as he leans over me.

"More than anything," I answer.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, because it is hard for him to say that, and then he places a kiss to my dry lips, because it seems appropriate at this time, because I'm dying.

"I love you," I say, because that also seems right.

"I love you too," he says, because that is polite.

"Remember what you promised me?"

He nods numbly.

When he switches the machines off, it takes a while. My heart burns and it brings tears to my eyes, the shortness of breath is staggering. Seto comes to hold my hand, because I wanted him to be the last one I saw, like I wanted myself to be the last one that Hurricane saw. It seems surreal that this is finally happening, that I am finally dying.

It's painful but I have to be strong, I have to let go, the suffering will take a while as my heart shuts down.

"Seto," I wheeze, my chest beginning to collapse. I don't know how long I've been lying here with my breath short and my body pained but he has sat here with me all this time so I won't be alone when I finally leave.

And his sweet blue eyes are the last things I see before I'm finally under the water.


	20. Final

I had a beautiful dream where you all left reviews for me.

* * *

><p>FINAL<p>

Sierra made me promise her many things before I pulled the plug. Here is the list.

Nobody would wear black at her funeral.

She only wanted her real friends and family attending, not people that only pretended to care as soon as she was dead.

I would name something after her so nobody ever forgot her.

I would name something after Hurricane so nobody ever forgot him.

If I were ever in the same situation, I wouldn't hold on for other people.

I would find someone and settle down one day.

I would try horse riding sometime.

She would be buried with that favourite picture of hers, the one where she is lying on Hurricane.

I would take a few days, weeks maybe, before going back to work.

I was allowed to be angry at her.

I would visit her sometimes, sit and talk to her for a little while.

Just like we had arranged, I had waited until Sierra was gone before I allowed the doctors to come in. I had waited until Sierra was gone before I allowed myself to cry, because she didn't want to see me sad while she was dying.

It was a small funeral because Sierra was very particular about who she wanted to attend. In the end, I had her buried in the centerpiece of my driveway, the big grass circle in front of the house that all the cars have to go around. That way, I could see her everyday. I think she would've liked that.

I dream of her every night. I think of her last moments spent in a hospital bed and can't help but feel guilty but also proud because I made her last wish possible. I miss her and I hope that wherever Sierra is, she's somewhere up there with Hurricane and they're having the time of their dead lives. I hope she's finally happy wherever she is, and that she is finally reunited with her beloved horse.

"Seto?"

Mokuba comes up behind me; I am sitting in front of her headstone.

"Sierra gave me this before she went and told me to pass it on," he tells me quietly as he hands me a pretty red journal.

I take it from him and mutter a thank-you before he goes and for a moment, I just sit there with the book in my lap. I wonder what's in here and if I really want to read it but I decide that if she left this for me, I should. I look back to her tombstone, grey and shining with the elegant black script carved into it: _Sierra Evans._

Under her name, I had a line from the song that inspired her horse's name printed there, because I thought she would have wanted something like that: _this hurricane's chasing us all underground._

I smile for a moment and look back to her book.

I flip to the first page.

_It was okay at first._

_ Like, how you stick your hand underneath the hot water tap, and it takes a little while for the burn to reach your nerves._

_ After that, I just felt empty._


End file.
